The Prodigal Son Read Free

ungrateful little sweetheart.
    Margaret turned on me. ‘Why aren’t you working on such a fine day?’
    I repeated my excuses, which were dismissed with even more scorn than that shown by my wife, but Adela was always loyal – one of her many virtues – and would allow no one to criticize me except herself.
    â€˜Why have you come, cousin?’ she asked quietly.
    Margaret bridled with indignation at the suggestion that her visit might have any other motive than to see her granddaughter, Elizabeth, and how we all went on. But she obviously had various titbits of news she was anxious to impart, amongst others that there was growing anxiety and unease in the city concerning the disappearance of John Jay’s ship somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.
    â€˜There’s been no positive sighting of it for some time now. And to make matters worse, Maria Watkins informs me that John Jay has died during this past week.’
    â€˜John Jay?’ I queried, bemused. ‘How can anyone know that if he’s at sea?’
    Margaret sighed, as one dealing with an ignoramus.
    â€˜Not that John Jay. His half-brother. The one who married the Botoner girl. They’re both sons of John Jay the elder.’ I frowned. It seemed to me that the Jay family had singularly little imagination when it came to naming children. Margaret went on, ‘I suppose your ignorance is forgivable. You weren’t born in the city, after all.’
    But mention of the missing carvel had recalled the stranger to mind and set me off on my own train of thought, so that I missed the beginning of her second item of news.
    â€˜â€¦ insists he’s called John Wedmore and comes from Ireland. It leaves poor Dick Manifold in a dilemma, not knowing who to believe.’
    â€˜John Wedmore?’ I interrupted, startled by what seemed like thought reading on Margaret’s part. ‘What’s happened to him?’
    Adam had stopped crying and was falling asleep in Adela’s arms, snuffling and dribbling in a most unattractive manner. The other two had grown bored with adult conversation and vanished about their own secret business.
    â€˜What … Who are we talking about, Mother-in-law?’ She still liked me to call her that from time to time, even though it was getting on for six years since Lillis, my first wife and her daughter, had died giving birth to Elizabeth.
    On this occasion, however, it failed to propitiate her or to improve her temper.
    â€˜If you’d pay more attention to what I’m saying, instead of going off into some reverie of your own, you would know that I’m speaking of a young Irishman called John Wedmore – at least, he claims his name is John Wedmore, and he certainly sounds Irish – who’s apparently here to make enquiries about his brother, who joined the crew of Jay’s carvel in Waterford.’
    â€˜Yes. I met him in the Green Lattis a few days ago. He was asking everyone in the alehouse about the ship then. So, what has he to do with Sergeant Manifold? Has he been arrested? It’s not a crime, is it, to ask after a missing vessel?’
    Margaret turned triumphantly to my wife. ‘There you are! I said he was in a dream world of his own. I wonder sometimes how you put up with him.’
    â€˜Oh, he has his good points.’ Adela gave me a slow, intimate smile that brought me out in goose bumps. Unfortunately, Margaret saw it too.
    â€˜That’ll do,’ she said sharply. ‘Keep that sort of thing for where it belongs.’ She slewed round on her stool to face me more directly. ‘Yesterday, a woman arrived at the fair …’
    â€˜But everyone’s packing up and going home now,’ I objected crassly.
    â€˜There are still plenty of traders who haven’t left yet,’ Margaret snapped. ‘Don’t interrupt. Her name’s Audrea Bellknapp and she’s lady of some manor or another, near Wells. It appears she